


i won't say (i'm in love)

by willieshelmet



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, F/M, M/M, angst???, based on the 1997 disney movie, if you like... squint???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willieshelmet/pseuds/willieshelmet
Summary: “I was a damsel, I was in distress, and I handled it.” She placed her coffee on the table and crossed her arms.“No I didn’t mean it like that, um I mean,” he stuttered, and the girl started to giggle a bit.“I was just joking, Hercules, don’t hurt yourself.”“Actually, it’s Luke. Luke Patterson.”AKA the Hercules inspired AU that everyone's been dying for
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Flynn/Carrie Wilson, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101





	1. damsel in distress

Luke felt like he was going insane. He walked over to the mirror and studied his features. He blinked and started to play with his cheeks, squishing them and moving them around. He pulled at his hair and ran his hands through it slowly. It isn’t anything like it was three years prior. What used to be dangerously close to a bowl cut had become almost shoulder length. He would have to get a haircut soon. He grinned, and his eyes sparkled a bit. At least his smile was still the same.

“Dude will you stop checking yourself out, we gotta go to this meeting,” Alex said, using playfulness to mask his irritation. He walked into view of the mirror, and he stopped next to his friend. Compared to the picture staring at them from across the room, they didn’t look drastically different than they did before, but something was just… _off_. The realization hit the blond just as it did the brunette, and he stared at his reflection.

Honestly, a lot of things had stayed the same since the picture was taken. He had the same nervous smile whenever the flash of a camera was just a little too bright, the same sharp jaw, and if one ignored the extra inch or two that the length of his hair was, it was like only a couple of months had passed. But you could tell he had aged. He was somehow more stressed than ever. Hell, he came out as gay, which was alright in the sense that his parents didn’t disown him, but tiring because he seemingly has to remind them every time they ask when he’s “going to bring a nice girl home.” He also started working out and eating better. You can’t be 17 and eating street dogs forever.

So he got old and bulked up. No big deal. What was a big deal though, was that Luke’s little existential crisis was going to make them late. And Alex hated being late.

He clapped his hand onto his friend’s shoulder, jolting him out of his trance.

“I’m gonna go get Bobby and Reggie. Meet us in the car, okay?”

Luke nodded and grabbed his guitar as he walked in the opposite direction as Alex. He pulled out his phone and earbuds and shuffled through his playlists. He left through the back of the building, hoping to avoid getting mobbed by fans or something.

Who was he kidding? No one would’ve recognized him, no one ever recognized him. It didn’t really matter, as Sunset Curve had less than a million monthly listeners on Spotify. Hell, they didn’t even have a manager; Bobby and Alex were the ones keeping everything organized.

He started walking in the direction of the parking lot, there was the sound of someone yelling. He ripped out his earbuds and turned around.

At the other end of the alleyway, was a girl, around his age, wrestling with a large man for her bag. “Fuck off!” She yelled, pushing him away. Before Luke could decide whether he was going to run over and help, the girl whipped out pepper spray from God knows where and pointed it straight between the assailant's eyes. In an attempt to avoid temporary blindness, he pulled the bag roughly before losing his balance and tripping over a trash can. The man pulled her down with him, and this is where Luke, who had hidden around the corner and watched everything, decided to step in.

He dropped his guitar, ran closer to them, and yelled out, “Just leave her alone already!“

But it wasn’t necessary. The man, distracted by the fall, didn’t notice that she still had the bottle until pepper spray was in his eyes.

Luke stopped in his tracks and watched as the guy pushed her off, called her a bitch, and narrowly avoided tripping over the trash can _again_.

He turned back to the girl, who, despite her badassery just moments ago, seemed to be having some trouble getting off the ground. So he went over and put his hand out for her to grab. She looked up and smiled, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her up. Luke smiled back and walked a few feet to pick up his guitar. “You need to be more careful. People can’t save you left and right.”

He blew his hair out of his face, and turned to see the girl’s smile fall. “I didn’t ask to get mugged, and I didn’t ask for your help, wonder boy. Not like you did that much anyway.” As she scowled, Luke’s phone went off, and to no one's surprise it was Alex, sending him an aggressive and sarcastic _no, it’s fine, we didn’t want to meet with the label reps anyways_. He sighed, motioned to the girl to follow him inside the building, and began texting Alex back.

_just leave without me_   
_i'll find my own way to the meeting._

He rubbed his forehead. How did he manage to get into this mess? He was stuck with some girl he doesn’t even know because some guy wanted to steal her backpack and he was going to be late for the meeting. “Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee or something while I call the police?” She didn’t seem to acknowledge him, but she walked over to the coffee maker anyway.

As he dialed 911, he took the time to study the girl. Her dark brown curls were slightly matted from the fall. She carried herself with a grace that was slightly unexpected, especially since she had just been mugged. And her eyes, oh her eyes! He didn’t see them fully until she started to walk back with him, and they made him feel something, like butterflies or something.

_Luke did not get butterflies._

He tried to keep his shit together as he recounted what had happened for the operator, only stopping to ask for her name.

“Julie Molina.” Fuck.

Even her _name_ was perfect.

He finished the call and tucked his phone away. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he got closer to Julie.

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back there. It was rude and you obviously handled yourself without my help. I guess it just felt like a damsel in distress type situation.” He shrugged and looked at the girl to see her reaction. Her face stayed emotionless.

“I was a damsel, I was in distress, and I handled it.” She placed her coffee on the table and crossed her arms.  
.  
“No I didn’t mean it like that, um I mean,” he stuttered, and the girl started to giggle a bit.

“I was just joking, Hercules, don’t hurt yourself.”

It’s funny, he thought, because he had always pictured himself more as a Percy Jackson type. He smiled and shook his head.

“Actually, it’s Luke. Luke Patterson.”


	2. go the distance

Julie was going through it. She was stuck at a job she hated, with a boss that was bordering on the edge of Disney villain level evil, and had gotten mugged just 20 minutes prior.

She was going to be late to work.

Despite going to a good school for four years to get a degree, she still ended up in literal hell on Earth: Los Angeles.

Maybe she was being dramatic. But she did spend 17 years living there before moving across the country for school, and three of those were spent mourning her dead mom. And Julie knew that her mom would not be happy with how her life had turned out.

When she and her two friends from high school applied for a job at Ghost Club Records’ Hollywood branch, it seemed perfect. The commute was far enough that she had a valid excuse for not living at home with her dad and brother, and maybe, just maybe, the job would have led to some label exec hearing her voice, offering her a record deal on the spot.

And while all three of them got the positions they were eyeing, it wasn’t long before they realized why such a big name label was hiring kids straight out of college in the first place. And they signed a stupid contract which meant they couldn’t quit.

Naturally, they tried to get fired.

Spilling coffee on equipment, showing up late, anything to piss their boss off enough for them to get let go. But then Willie, one of the sound engineers who had been there a couple of years, caught them and just laughed, “Trust me, I tried everything. Getting fired won’t get you freedom, just blackballed in the entire industry.

So Julie showed up to work for the 487th time (not that she was counting) and groaned at the little hoard of guys doing filming themselves doing God knows what for God knows who (she knew very well what they were doing, she just didn’t want to think too hard about how the thirst traps they were making would probably be seen by little girls around the ages of nine to thirteen).

L.A. was full of posers, influencers, narcissists, spoiled rich kids, and-

“Carrie!”

Carrie Wilson, despite being two, possibly three, of the things listed above, was loyal and a necessity if Julie was going to survive another day at Ghost Club. She engulfed her friend in a hug and eyed the wannabe hype house members once she pulled away. Had Julie pepper-sprayed a grown man and treated a very (and I mean very) attractive guy like he was no more than a bug on her windshield? Yes. But that was because she woke up late, missed her bus, and remembered all the shit waiting for her at work. Social anxiety was real and Julie knew that if she even tried to utter an “excuse me” she would’ve shut down.

That was where Carrie came in. She didn’t even say anything, just cleared her throat, put on her very best “can I speak to your manager” face, and suddenly they were gone. 

Isn't it awesome when white women use their powers for good? 

They walked into the building arm in arm, and Julie used the opportunity to share the details of her “literally insane” morning with Carrie. But once the doors opened, they were met with Nick staring at them like a puppy after it had been kicked.

If you had told any of the three back in high school that they were going to spend most of their days holed up in a recording sound booth together, they would’ve laughed in your face. 

Carrie couldn’t tell you how she and Julie had gone from enemies to best friends overnight, but she did know that she regrets allowing them to fall out in the first place. And over a _boy_ too.

Well, it wasn’t exactly over a boy. It was a lot of little things, including the death of Julie’s mom, that all came crashing down once Carrie realized the other girl had a crush on Nick, despite the two of them dating.

To this day, Julie will deny that she ever liked Nick and swear that she saw him as just a friend. But it’s fine. The past is in the past. Carrie came out, she ended up dating Flynn, and everything was fine.

“Caleb’s at it again,” Nick rushed through his words and spoke barely above a whisper. So maybe everything was not fine.

Julie rolled her eyes, the aggravation from her morning setting in again. “What is it this time? He didn’t like how you played guitar on a track that you told him didn’t need guitar? Or does he want me to redo the backing vocals that I’ve already rerecorded about 6 times? Or maybe-”

“Maybe it’s the fact that you’re 20 minutes late and we have a meeting today.” Caleb had suddenly appeared in front of her and his lips formed a tight smile after he finished speaking.

Oh. _That’s_ why Nick was whispering.

The thing about Caleb Covington was that he wanted too much and gave those who worked under him too little time to get it done. He was literally on the board for the label; why he chose to spend his time abusing a bunch of doe-eyed college grads was anyone’s guess.

Julie smiled right back. “Of course Caleb, I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.” That was a lie. It happened multiple times after that.

After Julie’s meeting with Caleb and an artist who wanted her to help out with a new song, she joined Willie and Nick in one of the studios so she could record those backing vocals yet again. Then, all three of them met up with Carrie for a team meeting which was essentially just Caleb berating them for two hours, until it was time for them to work on their own individual projects. By the time they packed their stuff to leave it was nearing eight p.m.

“Do you think it’s inhumane how long our hours are?” Willie asked, grabbing his helmet and skateboard from under the desk.

“It definitely is, but then again we don’t have set hours. I don’t actually know whether we have a set rate or if we get paid hourly. At this point, I’m too scared to ask,” Julie shrugged. And honestly, she didn’t really care. The best part about Thursdays wasn’t that they were one step closer to the weekend, but that their little group went out for drinks at their favorite bar: Home Base.

It was there that Julie sang for the first time in front of a real audience since her mom had died, not just her family or close friends or with her college professors during private meetings. Sure it wasn’t an actual performance, just a loud, emotional rendition of “She Used To Be Mine” by Sara Bareilles, one of her mom’s favorite songs. It helped that she was drunk. It also helped that she was singing it in front of a bunch of drunk college students who were on their spring break.

Carrie had her first kiss with Flynn there. Nick, who had been recently educated on different romance tropes, nearly spat out his drink when he saw them. Those two were classic ‘enemies to lovers’ but he didn’t ever think they were going to hit the ‘lovers’ part of their story. Of course, he was happy for them, he couldn’t recall a time Carrie looked that happy since, well, ever. But the problem was that it meant he lost his bet with Willie and owed him 50 bucks. It was fine; the fact that Nick was the one who saw it all unfold meant _he_ was the one who got to tease Carrie and gained some immunity from her sarcastic comments for the time being. 

Willie and Nick didn’t have any emotional ties to Home Base, just that it had this “sick” set up in the back for Willie to practice skating tricks and that Nick would attempt and usually fail, but hey, he was getting better

The bar was only a block away from Ghost Club, so they walked over. Or Julie, Carrie, and Nick walked, while Willie skated. 

“Shit we’re late for her set,” Carrie groaned as they walked through the doors. Another magical thing about Home Base was that it’s where Flynn secured her second job. During the day, she spent her time coming up with witty captions as a social media manager. (Don’t bother asking what company she works for; all the times she had explained it to them left the group more confused.) She was a textbook workaholic; she rarely drank or danced with them when they were there, too busy behind her makeshift DJ booth trying to figure out how to get people to have fun without blasting pure club anthems.

Home Base might’ve been a little chaotic, but it wasn’t the type of bar with sweaty bodies grinding up on each other while “The Hills” by The Weeknd was blasting through the speakers. 

Instead, she played music that let people _vibe_. Some TLC, SZA, or a song from the less depressing side of Lorde’s discography. But once in a while, she would get a little crazy and bump something like “Mr. Brightside.” There was something about seeing an entire room of people immediately get excited over a song that felt like ecstasy to her.

Not that she had ever done ecstasy. “It’s one of the white people drugs,” she informed Julie during one of their smoke sessions back in college. “Black people and white-people-drugs don’t mix. Have you seen our prison system?”

So when she found the right moment to switch Elton John’s “Benny and the Jets” to Frank Ocean’s “Super Rich Kids” (thank god for samples) and watched people register the song change, she smiled. And then she smiled even harder when she saw her girlfriend walk through the door with their best friends in tow.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Carrie said when Flynn walked over. The darker girl gave the blonde a quick kiss, and their friends tried to ignore just how quickly the scowl on Carrie’s face melted into a soft smile once Flynn pulled away. 

Emphasis on _tried_.

“Don’t you love young love?” Nick asked innocently as he turned his friends. Julie let out a snort but attempted to play it off once she noticed Carrie glaring at her. 

Carrie rolled her eyes, “I’d kill you all if I didn’t have a favor to ask. Or, at least, my cousin needs a favor.”

“Bobby’s band, Sunset Curve, has been to ‘like six shitty meetings with brain dead execs at some record label,’ his words, not mine, ‘in the past month.’ He called me during my lunch break and practically begged me to get them an in with Caleb.”

“Well, I hope you said no,” Julie interjected. She didn’t exactly care about ‘Sunset Swerve’ or whatever Bobby’s band was called. But she wouldn’t wish working with Caleb on her own worst enemy, let alone a couple of naive 20-somethings who were trying to single-handedly revive pop-punk.

“Of course I said no, I’m not stupid,” Carrie brushed her hair over her shoulder, and continued. “But, I did tell him that I knew a super cool, hot, sexy producer who makes music out of her living room and three amazing, talented, supportive friends who have hands-on experience making albums.” 

The four of them groaned in response, and Julie grabbed her friend’s hand, “Carrie, and I mean this with all my heart, fuck you.” They probably would’ve said yes immediately, it was just that when Carrie decided to shower them with compliments they felt _icky_. She showed affection through sarcasm, not praise.

Unless she was talking to Flynn. The two had an arsenal of mushy names they would call each other, ranging from “baby” to “demon” (the latter was what Flynn used to call Carrie in high school, but was later turned into a term of endearment). 

“I bet you already made plans with him,” Willie said. She had, for 3 pm the next day. 

“Right after work? On our half-day? Have you no shame?” Nick buried his face into his hands, and Willie reached out to rub his back. The only reason their little group decided to go drinking on Thursdays was because they got off work at 1 every Friday. None of them really knew why, just that Caleb always scurried out of the office at exactly 12:45, giving them 15 minutes to finish up whatever they were doing since they weren’t going to get paid overtime anyway.

“Will you guys stop being so dramatic? God, you guys act like I’m committing murder. You aren’t going to die,” Carrie scoffed, and Julie shot her a look.

“If only. At this rate, we’re working ourselves to death. And honestly, I’m not super upset at that outcome.” Julie was joking, of course. But the thought of doing anything music production related that weekend sounded like it would send her over the edge.

But it was no use. Even with the complaints, the whining, and the bargaining, they were no match for Carrie and her sheer determination. Plus, she insisted that they all owed her, “I could spend all my time making out with Flynn in front of you. But I don’t, because I love you guys.” 

There were actually about a hundred other reasons Carrie could’ve used to convince them, like the time she got her rich uncle to bail Willie out of jail when he was caught skating in a closed museum. Or the time took the blame for one of Julie’s mistakes at work and let Caleb take all his anger out on her. Or how she was the one who taught Nick that letting people walk all over him wasn’t the same thing as being nice. And they were going to end up saying yes regardless. The five of them could never say no to one another; they would do anything for each other. 

So Carrie texted Bobby the address of Julie and Flynn’s apartment, Willie and Flynn discussed what equipment they had and didn’t have, and Julie downed another drink while Nick watched in awe.

“Hey,” he started as he grabbed one for himself, “This could be fun. You get to make music that doesn’t benefit Caleb and have the freedom to fully express yourself. Think of it as an epic adventure, like Coco or something.”

Julie shook her head. “Coco is about a little boy traveling through the afterlife with some dude who is revealed to be his dead great grandfather. This isn’t a Disney movie Nick; it’s just more work. And funnily enough, I don’t want to go the distance.”


	3. it's a small world after all

“Why has every single one of those things ended the same way?” Reggie, Sunset Curve’s bassist, asked as he sat on the couch. He stuffed a jelly donut into his mouth, which he had stolen from their meeting the day before and stashed in the fridge of their shared apartment.

_ What? The food was the best part of those stupid meetings. _

Despite being late, Luke didn’t actually miss anything, just the first five minutes of stuffy old dudes in suits trying to do small talk with three guys who were all in their early 20s. And when he  _ did _ get there, and the “business” talk began, they soon realized that, once again, it wasn’t going to work out.

“Because they always start off by promising creative freedom, then we get ready to sign a contract, then Alex finds something questionable in it because he’s fastidious and actually reads everything.  _ Then _ I try to get us out of it while Luke tries not to lose his shit. But we all know he hasn't really learned how to chill out even though he got us kicked out of our very first meeting with a label,” Bobby, the group’s rhythm guitarist, responded. Alex chuckled while Luke scoffed.

“Is that your word of the day or were you listening to Queen earlier?” he asked between bites of his donut.

Bobby, who was trying to ignore the jelly that had transferred to his palm, responded, “I listened to ‘Killer Queen’ 10 minutes ago. My word of the day is ‘apologia,’ and I have no fucking clue what it means.” 

“Where in ‘Killer Queen’ does Freddie Mercury say the word ‘fastidious’?” Alex asked.

Bobby made a face, as if the answer was obvious. “Uh… right before the second chorus… dude it’s like we didn’t even have the queen lyric trivia night.” 

“Every point went to either you or Reggie.” Usually Luke loved it whenever his bandmates spoke so passionately about music, but when it came to Queen, Reggie and Bobby had a problem.

Reggie had a habit of memorizing random facts, and had gone down an internet hole on the internet when he accidentally typed “queen” instead of “the queen” while doing an European History assignment. Bobby became an avid Queen fan when his uncle revealed that he actually met them at Live Aid back in 1985, and had photo evidence to prove it. 

“Hate all you want, but Freddie Mercury is the bi icon I deserve,” Reggie said. There was something so personal about knowing that the lead singer of his favorite band was out for all the world to know. 

“I’m pretty sure he was gay,” Alex argued. 

They’ve had this discussion countless times, whether in the back of a car, before a show, in line for McDonald’s—it didn’t matter. But Bobby did not want to have it today. “I don't think we should argue about a dead man’s sexuality if he didn’t reveal it,” he said, hoping to put the conversation to rest.

Reggie crossed his arms, and overlooked Bobby’s comment. “The ghost of Freddie Mercury told me, you guys just can’t see him,” he stated matter of factly.

Alex smiled. “I wish you would choke on your donut and die so I couldn’t see you,” he said. 

Reggie’s jaw dropped in shock, while Luke was struggling not to laugh.“Harsh, man,” they said, and turned to look at each other upon the realization that they had spoken at the same time. “Jinx!”

“Can you two shut up for like five seconds so I can give you guys some good news?” Bobby snapped, and the others turned towards him. 

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Dude, we were just talking about how shitty the meeting went. How could you possibly have good news?” The lead singer was always the one preaching positivity and religiously followed the mantra of ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again,’ but he was a little skeptical of how quickly Bobby wanted them to try again. They usually took a week off to mope around the apartment and eventually do some good old fashioned busking around the pier to get their groove back. 

Getting over a bad meeting in one day was a little sudden, even for Luke.

“Last night I texted my cousin Carrie, the one who was in that girl group with the cheap wigs? Remember how I used to make you guys come with me to her performances back in high school?” Bobby said as he reached for his phone.

“Don’t call Dirty Candi a “girl group with cheap wigs;” they were phenomenal,” Alex argued. Unlike the other three, he actually enjoyed watching the group's performances. Sometimes he got tired of the whole pop punk persona he and the guys had.  _ Bubble gum pop deserves more credit than it receives. _

Reggie, who had been more than a little preoccupied with his jelly donut, chuckled. “I forgot you were like, their biggest fan or something. I’m pretty sure you memorized their choreography to that ‘All Eyes On You’ song,” he laughed.

The blond rolled his eyes, “First of all, I’ve never even had a real conversation with Carrie, I just appreciated the artistry. Second of all the song was called ‘All Eyes On Me,’ and the choreo was easy enough to get after we watched her do it each time we saw her perform, which was only three times by the way.” His bandmates stared at him, each trying (and failing) to contain their laughter. Alex blushed out of embarrassment. “Literally fuck off and finish telling us your good news Wilson.”

“As I was saying,” Bobby started, “After Itried, and failed, to get Carrie to hook us up at Ghost Club Records, she offered to set us up with an awesome producer and some of her friends from the label who are willing to help us out.”

Now Luke was sold. “Well shit, who’s the producer?” The idea of using real life equipment that actually worked and that they didn’t have to rent sounded like the dream. He was getting a little tired of watching Bobby and Alex grow frustrated with Logic Pro while Reggie seemed to use the application with ease whenever he was just fooling around with some country music he made.

“It’s actually her girlfriend. She does everything in her apartment downtown,” Bobby responded nonchalantly. He tried to move past it as quickly as possible. He didn’t want them to reject the offer just because Flynn made music out of her living room and not some state-of-the-art sound booth. Especially when they were doing the exact same thing, only worse.

Alex, much to the rhythm guitarist’s delight, didn’t even seem to notice. “Carrie’s gay? I knew there was a reason I liked her,” he said smugly. 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “I’ll make sure to invite her next time we go to Pride. Now can I please play you guys a demo because Luke looks like he’s going to say something snarky if I don’t prove that she’s actually legit.”

“I wasn’t going to be snarky,” Luke grumbled. He absolutely was, but he hated when Bobby was right. And he hated that when Bobby played the demo he was thoroughly impressed. It was  _ good _ . More than good even. And her voice of the girl on the track made it even better. “Is that Flynn singing?” He asked nonchalantly, trying to hide his curiosity.

“You can ask her when we get there. Carrie and I settled on 3,” Bobby said. Alex nodded, pleased with the plan Bobby had made. He was actually kind of excited to work on music with new people, and possibly make some new friends. The four of them had been hanging around each other since middle school and started living with each other after graduating instead of moving away for college. Luke and Reggie went to a local community college while Alex and Bobby did everything online.

Sure their parents were supportive, but there was no way in hell they were going to let them live on their own and pursue music without a fallback plan.

So new friends sounded fun. Alex wanted to believe that there was more to his twenties than watching Reggie try to perfect a new type of pastry, or being woken up at three in the morning whenever Luke gets a song idea, or fighting with Bobby over the remote. 

But as Alex fantasized about meeting new people, Reggie was thinking about his next meal.

“Could we stop at that new food truck around the corner? I’ve heard that their hot dogs are to die for,” he said. 

Bobby made a face. “It’s literally called  _ Sam ‘n Ella’s _ . Like the disease. With a name like that I wouldn’t be surprised if someone actually dies.” In the twelve years he’d known the bassist, it became obvious that he could be a bit of a foodie. Whenever his parents had a huge fight, they would take him to a different restaurant and pick whatever he wanted from the menu, no matter how expensive. So now Reggie had a “refined pallet,” as he liked to say, but somehow had a soft spot for hot dogs.

Don’t ask him what they’re made of, but his bandmates were sure he would eat them for every meal if it was possible. 

“Don’t be rude Bobby. Poor Reginald needs to eat! He’s starving,” Luke shook his head, pretending to be ashamed. He honestly had no real reason for being a pest, but if he didn’t do it, who would? “We have to try Sam ‘n Ella’s hot dogs, for his sake.”

Reggie was quick to play along, putting on a pout and his puppy dog eyes. Alex wasn’t buying it.

“We just saw him eat a jelly donut, and I’m not leaving the house to go get food because he wants to get food poisoning. If you care so much about his well being, why don’t you make something for him, Patterson?” the drummer asked in annoyance.

It was common knowledge that Luke couldn’t cook to save his life. In fact, there was a higher chance of Reggie dying from his cooking than the food from the place named after salmonella. 

“Please sir,” Reggie was on his knees at this point, and put on a surprisingly good British accent, “spare food.” 

Bobby, who had been watching in amusement, decided to step in. “Alright Mercer,” he started, turning to Alex, “I’ll pay for the food, and we can get it on our way to Flynn’s. But if you get food poisoning,” he looked at Reggie, “no one will drive you to the emergency room Peters. You’re on your own, I swear to God.” 

After a fifteen minute nap and the realization that Sam ‘n Ella’s hotdogs were actually really good, Sunset Curve pulled up to the front of Flynn’s apartment.

“I feel like it’s about time you ask your rich uncle to buy each of you guys a car,” Alex said, putting his car into park. He was a little over being their personal chauffeur, considering each of them had their license.

“My rich uncle already helps us pay the rest on our apartment. His name is on the lease,” Bobby huffed out as he struggled to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

Alex rolled his eyes, and reached over the central console to help “That means he can afford to buy three preowned cars. I’m tired of your backseat driving Wilson, especially since I was the first one out of all of us to get my license. I’m also the only one who can parallel park on the first try.”

“I didn’t get my license on time cause my parents were getting a divorce,” Reggie interjected. It was a little hard to get to the DMV when your parents were in and out of court fighting over who gets what. 

Luke nodded, and added, “I wasn’t speaking to my mom so I couldn’t even get my permit on time.” He also ran away from home and lived in Bobby’s garage for about a month, but that’s a time in his life that he doesn’t like to think about, even more so because he’s long since made up with his mom.

“I literally broke my arm and couldn’t use a steering wheel.” The summer before their senior year, Bobby, Luke, and Reggie decided they wanted to be pro skaters. But once Bobby immediately fell off of his board and the other two boys saw (and heard) his arm bend in the wrong direction, they quickly squashed that dream.

“Please. Just get out of my car,” Alex sighed as he moved to rest his head on the steering wheel. If they were having this conversation on any other day, Alex probably would’ve entertained it. But they were five minutes late, and he still needed to find parking.

For once, his friends listened, and made their way out of the car and onto the sidewalk. “We’ll wait in the lobby while you park,” Bobby said before closing the door.

It took Alex exactly eight minutes to find parking, which was a miracle given it was a Friday afternoon in L.A. He got out, put about $5 in quarters into the parking meter (just to be safe), and immediately got hit by some guy on a skateboard. 

They fell to the ground, but the man on the skateboard seemed to have a faster recovery time.

He stood up almost as fast as he skated into Alex, and examined the scene in front of him. “Oh man, you dinged my board,” he groaned, picking up his board.

Alex, who was still on the ground by the way, could basically feel his eyes roll to the back of his head. He hated this city and all the wannabe Tony Hawks that infested it. “Dude, you ran me over. You’re lucky we didn’t fall into oncoming traffic and die.” He slowly got up, and winced at the dampness he felt on the side of his jeans.

The skater began talking as he took off his helmet. “Yeah, that would suck, wouldn’t it?”

_ Fuck _ . 

No, because this guy was hot. Like  _ beyond  _ hot. Like so hot that corny slo-mo rom com music started playing in Alex’s head when he flipped his long hair. He looked like a greek god, and Alex had been super close to comparing him to Adonis out loud. 

He was down bad, falling for the guy who literally made him fall on his face?

“Holy shit are you bleeding?” Adonis (yeah, that’s what Alex was going to call him until he learns his name) asked, snapping the blonde out of his thoughts.

He suddenly remembered what that wet patch he felt was. “No it’s just a ketchup packet from a hotdog I had earlier,” he responded. He turned his pocket inside out, revealing a squished Heinz packet and a thin layer of ketchup covering the fabric of his jeans.

“I guess you’re the hot dog now, with all the ketchup on you,” Adonis laughed. Alex was going to lose his mind. That was quite literally the corniest joke he had ever heard, but the man in front of him might as well have been a comedian with his delivery.

But he (mostly) kept his composure, and chuckled in response,“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Alex was prepared to say goodbye to the other man once his little stand up routine was over, but was surprised when he continued to talk to him. “I’m Willie, by the way. What about you, hotdog?”

Flustered by the nickname, it suddenly became very hard for the blonde to remember his own name, but he eventually stuttered out “Alex” before things got too awkward. But Willie didn’t seem to notice. 

“I think I like that a lot more than hot dog,” he smiled, and Alex reciprocated.

“I’m glad,” he said calmly. He was trying really hard to not fully melt into a puddle right in front of Willie. But it wasn’t like he was ever going to see him again, right? Los Angeles is a big city, and they would go in there separate ways and it wasn’t like he was expecting Willie to ask for his phone number and-

“I’m walking this way,” Willie asked, tucking his helmet under his arm.

_ Oh _ . 

He actually wanted to keep talking to him. Or maybe he was being polite? Either way, the fates seemed to be working really hard to keep the two together, and Alex wasn’t complaining.

Alex responded, “Me too,” and talked about anything and everything during their five minute walk. Willie offered to teach him how to skate on the condition that Alex teach him how to play the drums, and it took all the strength that Alex had not to agree to the idea immediately. 

But they somehow never discussed where either of them were going.

So when they both stopped in front of Flynn’s building, Alex was beginning to think that it was all too good to be true. “This is my stop,” he said.

Willie smiled again, but this time Alex couldn’t contain his blush. And Alex felt his cheeks go redder when Willie said, “No way. It’s mine too. I’m working on some music with my friend’s cousin and his band,” with the same level of excitement that Luke, Reggie, and Bobby have when some new video game comes out.

They walked into the building and the blond pointed to his bandmates, who looked bored out of their mind as they sat in the lobby. “I think I might be a part of the band.”

Willie clasped his hand on Alex’s shoulder, right before bringing him close enough to him that he could smell the other’s hair (not that Alex smelt Willie’s hair, that would be weird). “Well, well, it’s a small world after all,” Willie smiled, and the two moved towards the rest of Sunset Curve. 


End file.
